Plenty are sampled in My Name Is Gulpilil, which oscillates between present and past, drawing on portrayals plucked from the actorâs rich oeuvre to illustrate different parts of his life and character â
his story, this time, not someone elseâs. Moments from his films (so smoothly integrated by editor Tania M. Nehme) feature like personal footprints, snapshots of a life impressed on to celluloid.
The film plays out in the spirit of a living wake, celebrating its subject while contemplating the inevitable. One Buñuelian shot captures the actor from above, lying with his eyes closed in a coffin with red lining, his body covered in old film reels. They flow out of it, as if they are a natural part of the man himself.